Guardian Angel
by CastielhasthePhoneBox
Summary: Crack reporter Dean Winchester should really be more careful about what he publishes, but we all know that isn't going to happen. Lawrence City's most mysterious super hero tries to persuade him...


So maybe it hadn't been the best idea to antagonize the notorious King of Hell by revealing the man's real name in the papers, but what was he supposed to have done? Just kept that information secret? Hell no. Crowley had been wreaking havoc in Lawrence City for years now and Dean hadn't become an investigative reporter because it was the safest job in town. The thing was, living in a town where all these super powered dick bags are flying around all high and mighty, sometimes Dean got a little more frustrated with the fact that they got away with epic battles in the middle of town all because they had secret identities. And sometimes he acted-or wrote-before he thought. Sam didn't make him call to check in every night for no reason.

All of which was just to say, he was sort of beginning to regret the fact that he had let that article get printed. As it turns out, revealing a super villain's secret identity just pisses them off. This would be the third time in two weeks that he found himself tied up by stunt goons numbers 2 and 3 (stunt goon number 1 hadn't lasted past the first time), being hit across the cheek with stunt goon number 3's stained iron knuckles.

He laughed. This was not the desired response and he felt a fist to his stomach before he even saw it coming. Trying to catch his breath, he pulled on his best Is-That-All-You-Got smirk before spitting out some of the blood that had found its way into his mouth. It landed on the first guy's oh so shiny shoes and, judging by the look in his eyes, Dean had probably crossed the line. He was honestly wondering why he wasn't dead yet when he heard the telltale flutter of wings announcing the arrival of his knight in shining armor. He winced. Did that make him the fucking damsel in distress?

Before he could get properly annoyed at the thought, his guardian angel—no really, the papers had started calling the dude Guardian Angel (_so_ not Dean's idea, by the way)—swept in and easily dispatched Crowley's henchmen. Really, you'd think, after three times, Crowley would have caught on that those imbeciles were no match for Lawrence's own Guardian Angel. He hadn't apparently, which was slightly strange, but Dean wasn't going to question it when he had those blue eyes aimed at him, practically on fire with what was unmistakably rage.

"I thought I told you to be more careful," he hissed, that gravelly voice raking down Dean's spine in a way that he wasn't going to admit to any time soon. He swept forward, his black wings folded but filled with tension, and Dean really didn't know when he had begun to be able to read the guy's freaking _wings_.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I think you actually said something about me staying at home until you got it handled," he drawled, thoroughly unimpressed. Well, he was impressed. He just wasn't going to admit it. "Which, I mean, come on. Did you really think that was gonna happen?"

He smirked then and asked sweetly, "Now are you gonna untie me, or is this some kink that you forgot to mention?"

The sound of grinding teeth was practically audible, but apparently GA decided he was going to be the mature one here because he simply stepped forward without responding to the question.

Dean let out a breath then that was definitely not a sigh, slightly relieved at the cool feel of his Angel's fingers on his wrists. Woah. Not _his_ angel. Dean huffed a little laugh at his own little mental slip up. He didn't even know the guy's name and it wasn't like he was the only person that GA saved. It wasn't even that big of a deal that he was the only one the angel seemed to save over and over again. Oh god. A thought occurred to him—was he Lois fucking Lane?

Guardian Angel apparently had impeccable timing tonight, because he yet again stopped Dean's thoughts from jumping down that rabbit whole by tugging the last knot free and pulling him up out of the chair.

"Let's go." He pulled Dean to him before the reporter could protest, holding him to his chest and launching him into the air. By the time Dean had registered what was happening, he saw his own apartment building coming way too fast toward them. He understood suddenly how the man always seemed to show up out of nowhere—he flew fucking fast. The air rushing around them was enough to make Dean feel justified in clinging tightly to the superhero's chest until they landed on Dean's balcony, at which point he pushed him away.

"What the hell, man!" Dean exclaimed, freaked out and embarrassed for it. "You do _not _just freaking _fly _people without warning!"

The Guardian Angel—goddammit, Dean didn't even know the guy's real name!—just stared at him for a long time while Dean calmed down minutely.

"Why are you so frustrating?" he demanded, his blue eyes meeting Dean's own as he stepped into the reporter's personal space. Dean wished he could see the rest of GA's face so that he could tell better what he meant by that. As it was, most of the superhero's face was kept hidden by a Zorro-esque mask that was nearly as tacky as it was weirdly sexy. Not that Dean thought it was sexy. The asshole was a fucking vigilante and Dean had had just about enough of dicks in masks… And if he had maybe gotten off to the thought of blue eyes and black fabric, well. He wasn't going to analyze it.

"Why do you keep saving me?" Dean returned, annoyed both with the way his thoughts were going and with the question. "Maybe you should just leave me be. I didn't ask you to babysit me and I certainly don't need you fighting my battles for me!"

Dean's mouth always seemed to get him in trouble. Maybe it was just his words in general considering how this had all started. He really didn't seem to know when it was time to _shut the fuck up_.

GA stood so quickly that Dean felt the movement more than actually saw it, and grabbed him by the collar of his T-shirt. Slamming him into the wall, he hissed, "And where would you be then, Dean? If I hadn't stepped in every single time you nearly got yourself killed... you would be _dead_."

Dean swallowed, flattening himself against the wall behind him in an attempt to put some space between them, trying desperately to ignore the way GA's breath felt against his ear. As if in response to this, the masked vigilante pulled back so that Dean could see what was visible of his face again. Like this, so obviously angry, so different from the almost cold calm that marked his features usually, he looked more like an avenging angel than a guardian. Like this, Dean could remember that this man had just as much power to hurt him as any super villain did.

A shiver crawled down his spine and he licked his lips, staring at the man pressing against him wordlessly. It almost wasn't even a surprise when he felt those full lips pressed against his own, mashing their mouths together in a heated kiss. The Guardian Angel pressed his frustrations into Dean's mouth with the almost painful clash of teeth, the dominating push of his tongue. Dean moaned, squeezing his eyes shut, and letting the usually so unruffled hero take control of the situation. Hands travel over his sides, one stopping at his hip to hold him there, the other making its way into the reporter's hair and cradling the back of his head almost gently. He could feel the slightly shorter man's erection, hot and rubbing against his own, and then there was a knee urging his legs apart. And, oh god, but Dean liked the feeling of this man's strong thigh rubbing up between his legs, making him moan louder.

The superhero pulled his mouth away from his and Dean couldn't help the little whine that escaped his throat. He didn't stop rubbing up against Dean's thigh however, which was both fucking awesome and simultaneously driving him crazy.

"You like that, Dean?" the words were spoken against Dean's jaw, followed shortly by GA's tongue snaking out to taste him. "You like being pressed up against the wall like this? Like feeling me?"

Dean had always had a certain kink for dirty talk, and hearing it in that gravelly voice that had already—and he really wasn't even going to try denying it anymore—been haunting his dreams for weeks.

"Fuck..." Dean's managed, rolling his hips to increase the friction. That got a smile, no, a goddamn smirk, and the Angel pulling away from him.

"Is that what you want, Dean?" he asked, those big blue eyes flashing wickedly. Dean swallowed, knowing what the man was going to say, anticipating it.

"Want me to fuck you?"

Dean didn't think he could respond, especially with the way those deft fingers were working on his zipper. He gasped when the cold air hit him and then Angel was pulling back again.

"Do you want this? Do you want me to fuck you?" he repeated. Still at a loss for words, Dean nodded dumbly. He was rewarded with another smirk and a hand reaching into his briefs.

"Oh god," he gasped, bucking when his Angel's hand gripped his cock and stroked once before letting go again. "Don't stop!"

He got a breathy chuckle for that and then the super hero said, "I want your pants _off_."

Dean obeyed the implied command, shimmying out of his pants with no thought for the fact that they were still out on his balcony where basically any of his neighbors or the people in the building across from his could see. It didn't matter, not when he had a Guardian Angel. The thought made him smile, and then he was shivering in a mix of cold from the night air now caressing his legs and the sight of the other man freeing his cock from his pants.

He licked his lips then, watching the man who had saved him, whom he hadn't really thanked, slowly run his hand up and down his cock. He stared, mesmerized for a moment, and then complained, "Come on. Want you _now_—"

Before he had even finished the sentence, he was against shoved up against the wall, this time with one of his legs hoisted up around the Angel's waist. The masked hero's wings came around them, caging Dean and keeping the cold wind off of them. Dean groaned, relishing the superhero's heat against his naked legs and the privacy that the man's wings provided.

Everything was moving fast, too fast, but Dean wasn't going to stop this. It felt too good even while his brain couldn't seem to keep up. There were fingers in his mouth, he was sucking on them, and then they had found their way between his legs, rubbing against his hole teasingly. He gasped when he felt one push up into him, not wet enough, burning.

He let out a broken sound before gasping, "Lube… Bedside table…"

Angel nodded, and was gone before Dean could process why his body was suddenly so cold, empty. Only a moment later, he was back, Dean's bottle of lubricant already open and being poured liberally onto thin fingers. Then the finger was back up against his hole, but when it pushed in this time, there was no pain. Just pressure.

"More, come on," Dean moaned, rocking his hips to try and get him to push in further.

"So greedy," Angel whispered back, kissing Dean on the lips. Dean swallowed another sound that was most definitely not a whimper when he felt another finger pressed up into him. It was hardly a moment later when those fingers were pressing up against his prostate, making Dean cry out in pleasure.

"Godammit—I want you _inside_ me!" He was ignored for a moment longer as GA continued playing with him, pushing against that spot expertly.

"I'm not gonna last like this, man…"

And that's what got his savior kicking into action again. With a groan of his own the Guardian Angel hoisted Dean up completely, so that his legs were wrapped around his waist, and pressed his cock up against Dean's hole. He slid along the taller man's crack, thrusting once, twice, before taking his cock in hand and guiding it up into Dean.

Dean cried out at the feeling of his cock finally pushing up into him, slowly at first. That only lasted a couple of thrusts, and then he was slamming up into his body with no noticeable rhythm. It was just _faster, more, now_. Moaning in time with the masked man's thrusts, Dean began stroking himself, attempting to match the pace of the thrusts. It didn't work exactly, but that was fine. He was so close. It didn't matter that his hands were dry and his cock was probably going to be pretty chafed later. All that matter was that his angel had sped up and was growing louder. If possible, their movements got even more erratic until finally the winged man stilled, coming inside him. Dean bit back a scream and followed him over the edge, not even bothering to try lasting any longer.

They stood like that for a long time, propped up against the side of Dean's apartment, breathing heavily. Dean pulled his Angel into another kiss, long and slow, unrushed now that they had gotten that out of the way. He felt good. Warm. Satisfied.

The masked vigilante in his arms pulled out then, gently lowering him to his feet again and stepping back. He handed Dean his pants—and Dean so totally wasn't blushing even if he was feeling a sort of shy all of a sudden—and quickly straightened himself up.

And just like that, too fast for him to be ready, it was over. His Angel once again became Lawrence's Guardian Angel—not just his.

"Please, be careful, Dean," he said, his voice just about the only indication that he had just had sex.

He turned away and spread his wings, but before he could go, Dean shouted, "Wait!"

The Guardian Angel paused then and turned back over his shoulder expectantly. Pulling his pants back on to regain at least some of his dignity, he asked, "Aren't you at least going to tell me you name?"

He wasn't sure how he could tell, but he could see GA's eyes soften.

"Someday."

With a flutter of wings, he was gone, a shadow mixing in with the city's many shadows.


End file.
